Back on the ground, I will avoid getting lost in that labyrinth the French call métro by walking the rues of Marais with the Petite Mademoiselle. We will gawk and stare and gape and goggle until our eyes pop out. And, when totally In the Mood, I will sing Les Feuilles Mortes and Et si tu n´existais pas with my Iggy Pop accent. The Petite Mademoiselle will cringe and sigh and say S’il vous plaît, ne chante pas! So I will take her to a sidewalk café and, with the help of Monsieur Croque and a carafe of wine, my French will improve. The Petite Mademoiselle and I will become so much a part of the Parisien Panorama that, if Robert Doisneau were still alive, he would turn us into a picture postcard.